A Little Gambling Is Fun When You're With Me
by Silver Flame Alchemist
Summary: Steve glanced between his hand of cards and his friend, curious if this was some ruse to get him to admit he needed to practice poker more, or if Bucky really was trying to get him to unwind. He supposed there were worse ways, aside from crushing, stripped-down defeat. "Raise." - Bucky/Steve - Strip Poker! -


SO MANY FEELS.

* * *

Another quick sweep of the area turned up nothing, and Steve finally let himself relax, tugging off his helmet as he returned to the base. His squad was spread out around the site, Dum-Dum nodding to the Captain as he returned from his own patrol.

"All clear?" He asked, already making a bee-line for the tent he shared with Bucky.

"All clear." Dugan flopped down by the fire, grinning. "Least, it is _now_."

Steve chuckled, nodding once before he ducked into his tent. Bucky was already splayed out on his bedroll, a beaten-up book hovering near his face as he struggled to read in the dim light.

"You'll kill your eyes, Buck, use some more light." Steve slid into Mother Hen mode instantly, nudging his friend's foot off his side of the tent.

"It's one of your art books. I can see the pictures just fine." The brunette groused back, throwing Steve a look of disapproval over being babied. "We all good out there?"

"Yeah, all clear." He laid his shield and helmet to one side of his bedroll, finally sitting, groaning as his feet started to throb in protest. "Did you save me any dinner?"

Bucky threw him a grin. "What am I, your girlfriend, now? Next you'll be askin' me to wash your socks and iron your shirts!"

Steve aimed a half-hearted kick at his side, laughing as Bucky rolled out of the way and grabbed a covered plate beside him. "Well, you already tie my ties."

"Speaking of, how the hell did you get through basic without learning that?"

Steve took the plate with a nod, taking the napkin from atop the lukewarm food and draping it over his lap before he started to tuck in. "I learned; I just never got good at it."

"Some captain you are." Bucky teased. "You can't even play _poker_ , Steve."

"Some of us had more important things to do, you know. Such as, say, getting turned into a super soldier through experimental serums. But sure, spend your time playing cards. It's not like there's a war on."

"Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" Bucky asked, snorting, eyebrows winging up his forehead at the display.

"I had a long day, Buck. Meeting at the top of the hill, more drills with new recruits, and running point with Dugan. I'm just worn out."

Bucky sat up properly, running a hand through his hair, rummaging around in a bag by his pillow before he pulled out a beat-up deck of cards, waving it like the proverbial white flag at his Captain. "Unwind?"

"If you suggest Old Maid, I will put you in a headlock." Steve grumbled around a mouthful of peas.

"Poker, punk." Bucky grinned, plucking the napkin from Steve's lap and laying it out on the ground between them. " _Someone_ doesn't know how to play, remember?"

"I know the basics, thank you very much." Steve replied, downing the last of his food and washing it down with a swig from his canteen. "I'm not completely incompetent."

" _Completely_." Bucky grinned, shuffling the cards. "Now play gentle, okay? This is my last deck and it has a lot of sentimental value, so don't ruin it."

"Where's it from?" Steve asked, watching Bucky shuffle and then deal out the cards, providing them both with five cards, face down. 5 Card Stud. He knew that one.

"Girl back home." Bucky smirked, and Steve decided he _really_ didn't want to know. "She told me I had to keep 'em, so I did. They made it this far, I was hopin' they'd make it with me through the whole war."

"Well I'll be gentle then." Steve made a great show of picking his cards up gingerly, only handling them with two fingers and lifting them by the corners. Buck kicked him in the shin and the blonde broke out into a grin, holding the cards properly. "Ah—hit me?"

"You plannin' to throw out a card first?"

"Oh, right. Yeah." He slid one of his cards onto the napkin and drew a new one, reordering his cards as he tried to remember the hands you could have. "Everything quiet while I was gone?"

"Painfully." Bucky chuckled, discarding a card of his own. "Now, place your bets."

Steve flicked an eyebrow at him, blinking. "What do we have to…?" He trailed off as Bucky pulled off one of his boots and set it to the side of their small playing field. "Buck?"

"Dernier was telling me about a variant that he plays back in Paris." Bucky explained, grinning as he picked up his cards again. "Apparently you bet clothes."

"That sounds like a thoroughly questionable betting system." Steve eyed the boot with obvious misgiving. "So if I call…?"

"You have to put in a piece of clothing too." Bucky wriggled his toes, tossing Steve a wink. "And if you lose, I get the clothes, and you get more naked."

"Why the hell would you play like that?" Steve blurted, already feeling the tips of his ears start to burn.

"You won't improve unless you're playing for higher stakes." Bucky shrugged. "Way I see it, there's nothing much higher than being the first one naked in a camp full of your own men."

Unfortunately, Steve knew he was right. He tugged off a glove and threw it down beside the boot, glaring at the brunette. "I call."

Bucky smirked, discarding another card and drawing a fresh one. "Raise." He pulled off his other boot and both socks, depositing them with the rest of the pot.

Steve glanced between his hand and his friend, curious if this was some ruse to get him to admit he needed to practice poker more, or if Bucky really was trying to get him to unwind. He supposed there were worse ways, aside from crushing, stripped-down defeat.

The Cyclone at Coney Island, for example.

He checked his hand again, confident that a full house would get him pretty far, and decided Bucky should probably learn a lesson of his own. "Raise."

He tugged off his boots and socks, and tossed in the other glove for good measure, flicking one eyebrow up in challenge as Bucky looked between the pot and the blonde.

"You know your uniform counts as one article, right?" He grinned, tugging off his jacket and belt and tossing them in with the other clothes. "Wouldn't want you to get ahead of yourself, Cap."

"Shut up and play, Barnes." Steve grumbled, but there was no heat to the words.

"There won't be much left to play for, after this." Bucky smirked, laying out his four of a kind on the field. "Unless you're telling me you have something better?"

 _Dammit._

"Full house, Jacks high." Steve showed his hand, wincing internally at the crow of delight Bucky gave as he raked in his winnings. "I hate you."

"You love me." Bucky laughed, neatly stacking his winnings beside him. "Now, do you want to deal this hand, or should I keep playing house?"

15 minutes later, Steve was losing badly, and he knew it. Several times he had been forced to fold in order to keep his last remaining shred of dignity, and this hand was no different. He was sitting on a rather large pot with a four of a kind, Eights and feeling very confident. Except that he'd caught the smirk on Bucky's face when the brunette had drawn, and he hated the way it made his skin prickle. Being divested of all but his skivvies was a strange sensation, but he and Bucky had grown up together, and it was infinitely less strange with the brunette than it would have been with any of the other Commandos.

"Call." Steve finally said. "But can I keep them on till we show our hands?"

"Fine, _Stephany_." Bucky smirked, eyeing the large pile of clothing with evident relish. He'd managed to get down to his pants, but he looked like he already knew the outcome of the round, and Steve didn't like how cocky he was being.

"Four of a kind, Eights." Steve flipped his cards around to show Bucky, daring him to have something better.

"Well, Cap, I must admit I am impressed. That is the best hand you've had all night." His smile suddenly turned into a feral grin. "But it doesn't beat a royal flush." With an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, Bucky revealed his hand, the bright red hearts mockingly chipper as they danced about in front of Steve's face.

 _ **Dammit**_.

"I hate you."

"Shut up and give me your skivvies." Bucky cackled, raking the other clothes to his side of the tent. "Or do I need to call the house on you?"

"Shut up." Steve knew a flush had settled into his cheeks now, and he tried to pretend he couldn't feel it. He stood, glaring at Bucky as he pulled off the underwear and threw it at his friend's head.

"Why, Captain!" Bucky chirped, catching the projectile and tossing it onto the top of the pile. "Don't go throwing those things around; someone might get the wrong idea."

"I'm about to give you something, and you won't like it…" Steve muttered, sitting carefully on his bedroll, knees drawn carefully up to his chest.

He slowly dragged a blanket closer and Bucky reached over to slap his hand, frowning.

"That's cheating."

"It's in case someone decides they need me in a hurry." He defended, pulling the blanket around into as large of a bundle as he could, situating it carefully between himself and the entrance to the tent. The last thing he needed was for anyone _else_ to witness this humiliation.

"Un-huh, sure." Bucky grinned, eyeing him curiously, and Steve felt his whole body start to grow warm under the scrutiny.

Since their reunion, Bucky and Steve hadn't really discussed what had happened to either of them, deciding that when ( _read: if_ ) the opportunity arose, they would handle it as delicately as possible, and probably move on before it got uncomfortable ( _read: like Steve now was_ ). Bucky's eyes kept flicking up from the cards to scan a new part of Steve's exposed skin, the Sergeant's ears tipped red as he stole little glances of the national hero and tried not to get caught.

As if Steve could have possibly _missed_ the looks he was being thrown.

"You can ask, if you want." Steve decided, against his better judgement, that the best way to handle the situation was to simply acknowledge it. "I won't get offended."

"You said you felt taller, but is that all you feel?" Bucky blurted, and suddenly Steve felt like they were back in middle school, talking about Bucky's first kiss and how it had felt. Steve had been the one with burning questions, then, and Bucky had been the suave heart-throb that everyone wanted a slice of. It was incredibly odd to think that those roles had changed, especially since Steve didn't see how anyone could look at Bucky and _not_ want a sli—

"Stronger, faster, bigger in general…" Steve shut up his own thoughts by answering the question, rubbing the back of his neck to give his body something to do beside shudder under the scrutiny. "I don't feel short of breath anymore, and I can run more than 100 yards without passing out."

"And your back? I notice you stand up straight, now." Bucky had stopped staring, looking pointedly at his hands as they stilled against the cards. "And you hear me when I whisper now, which is kinda nice and kinda not."

Steve grinned, remembering how often he got told off for asking teachers to repeat their questions in the classroom until Bucky advocated for him to sit in the front row so he _could actually hear_.

"Spine like a steel rod." He nodded. "And the deafness is gone, along with the bad eyesight… You know, I didn't know red could be so pretty till they popped me outta that machine."

Bucky laughed. "That explains the outfit, I guess…" He threw the uniform beside him a look. "And the ulcers?"

"You saw me wolf down that dinner, didn't you?" He grinned. "Though, if Dugan keeps cooking the way he does, I might end up with some more."

They both laughed, the tension suddenly vanishing as Bucky looked back up, their eyes meeting, and a tiny, genuine, smile broke onto the brunette's lips.

"You have no idea how glad I am."

"I think I might have a tiny notion." Steve teased, smiling back the same.

"No, Steve, I was so worried…" Bucky seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and turning his attention back to the cards, continuing in a softer tone. "Thought they'd actually let you in, and then you'd end up in a ditch somewhere alone, and I'd never have been able to…"

Steve moved instinctively, pulling Bucky into a tight hug, fighting back a rising wave of guilt because he'd been the punk who'd nearly gotten arrested, let alone _enlisted_ , and he'd been risking more than just his own life with each attempt to join up. He hadn't even noticed it at the time, hell-bent as he'd been on doing his bit and proving he was more than a skinny kid from Brooklynn who never should have been allowed to live in the first place.

"…You know you're still starkers, right?" Bucky asked after a few more moments of silence, his hands sliding along Steve's spine to check for the familiar bend that didn't belong. He checked along his ribs, fingers looking for space between the bones, hard muscle replacing the emaciated, malnourished form he was familiar with. Palms smoothed over his chest, listening to his heartbeat, waiting for the stutter that didn't come, and his fingers curled gently against his chest as he listened to him breathe, deep and even, without so much as a flutter in his lungs.

"You're the one who's feeling me all over, Barnes." Steve decided to tease him, not letting go, feeling Bucky's cheek start to burn against his own.

"You're so different. You don't feel like you." Bucky slowly pulled away, looking him over again. "I know it's you under there, but you don't feel right anymore, Steve…" He stopped, and then tossed the Captain a crooked grin. "It's like huggin' a dame and findin' she's got a pistol strapped under her arm."

"First, it was your own damn fault for hugging a woman in a _Russian_ bar." Steve reminded him, grinning at the memory. "And second, I am offended that you just compared me to a dame, no matter how attractive or well-armed."

"Well you're both, so you better get over it."

Steve stared at him as Bucky hurriedly ducked his head, returning his attention to the cards, finishing dealing out the hands and picking his up hurriedly, hiding behind the faded blue backs.

"Bucky?" Steve managed to get out, blinking as he picked up his own hand, trying to backpedal to some semblance of normality ( _wherever_ that _was_ ) "If I'm out of clothes, doesn't that mean the game's over?"

"Gotta give you a chance to get your dignity back." Bucky shot him a wink, and Steve felt like he was going to combust on the spot.

"I feel like that's not going to happen any time soon." He muttered. "I don't have anything else to bet, Buck."

Bucky looked him over again, slowly, gaze catching on the curves of muscle and sharp corners that he still wasn't used to, even after the months they'd been on the field. "All in, then." He carefully laid his cards down, standing and sliding off his pants and underwear before flopping back down, infinitely less ashamed at his own sudden expanse of skin being caressed by the cool night air.

Steve's jaw worked to no avail, eyes dipping down over the tan skin of his companion, remembering how Bucky had looked that first day he'd shipped out. They'd barely even had a chance to say goodbye, between Bucky beating it to the local barracks and Steve being shuttled away to basic in the back of a truck that felt like it was taking him to a firing range where he'd be bumped off for lying on his enlistment form.

Bucky looked different too. Where there had been a healthy glow, there was now a dingy coat of sweat and grime from the long missions they had run, and the lack of any showers out in the field. There was a scar along one arm that looked like it had been left by a bullet, and he recognized the knife wound against Bucky's hip as one he'd gotten pulling Steve's ass out of the fire. He looked thinner, too, no longer well-fed by his mother or the string of girls who'd wanted to impress him with their cooking ( _much of which he'd shared with Steve, to keep some form of muscle on the blonde's bones_ ). His muscles were more defined, now, sinew shifting with every breath he took, and Steve could almost see the hair starting to stand up on his arms as he shivered and looked expectantly at his Captain.

"You gonna start drooling, or are you gonna play the game, Punk?" He teased.

Steve snapped out of his thoughts, blinking, and looked once more at his hand. "You don't look the same either." He managed, discarding a card and drawing a new one.

"I know. I'm a whole lot more handsome now, huh?" Bucky grinned, and Steve managed a chuckle, shaking his head at the brunette's antics.

"You gonna start batting your lashes, or are you gonna play the game, Jerk?" Steve threw back.

Bucky batted his lashes, as if on cue, and traded out one of his cards, watching Steve carefully. Steve decided to take a risk, trading out another card, and was rewarded with a four of a kind, kings. If Bucky pulled another flush, he would personally strangle the Sergeant and claim it was an errant HYDRA agent who had snuck into their tent in the dead of night.

Bucky traded out his last card, nudging the pot closer to the center of the tent before he motioned to Steve, who decided to stay with his four kings and a high queen. Never could be too careful with James Barnes.

"After you, Captain." Bucky smiled, motioning at the cards Steve was clutching like a life-line.

"Four of a kind, kings." Steve stated proudly, dropping his hand onto the playing field.

"Four of a kind, aces." Bucky grinned with a wink, dropping his cards on top of Steve's .

" _Dammit_!" Steve glared as the brunette cackled, a sudden urge overcoming him as he pounced, pushing Bucky down onto his bedroll, throwing logic and caution to the wind as he growled.

"Whoa, Cap, at least buy me dinner, first!" Bucky laughed, easily rolling them so he was hovering carefully over Steve's larger frame, the grin still evident. "I'm not that kinda girl, you know!"

" _Barnes._ "

"I cheated." Bucky's grin softened as he slowly sank back, letting Steve up. "It's not easy to hide aces up your sleeves when you have _no sleeves_ , either, so I think I deserve a little recognition for that."

Steve stared at him as Bucky pushed his hair from his eyes and looked carefully at anything besides Steve.

"Why the hell would you cheat?"

"I wanted to see what they turned you into." Bucky admitted in a whisper that Steve would have missed a few months previously. "Wanted to know it was still you, in there."

"Buck, you could have just _asked_." Steve laughed. "You didn't have to con me out of my clothes, jerk."

"I beg to differ." Bucky smirked, and there was something in his gaze that had Steve's skin heating up again. "I'm surprised half the girls in your little show didn't try to lure you to bed, with how you look now."

"A few tried." Steve admitted, cheeks heating at the memory of a very cute, _very_ insistent redhead who'd claimed it was just her patriotic duty to ensure Captain America was well looked after.

"And?" Bucky folded his arms, every inch the curious, inquisitive best friend he'd always been, questioning Steve over his interactions with girls like he was his damn _priest_.

"And I told them no, Buck." Steve let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh, sitting up and reaching for his underwear, perched atop the pile of clothes at the center of the tent.

"Why?" Bucky asked, slapping his hand away, his eyebrows knitted together. "Steve, you could have had a whole string of girls, literally from coast to coast. I got why you didn't like kissing 'em when we were back home, but that asthma problem cleared right up, so you shouldn't have had a problem keeping up with 'em."

"They weren't…" He stopped, staring up into curious blue eyes, and realized he didn't actually have an answer. Women had thrown themselves at him left and right, and he'd always turned them down as politely as possible. He even turned down a pretty brunette with curious blue eyes because it had hurt too much to hear her say his name. "I thought I should leave some of them for the rest of you."

"You sure it's not cause they weren't me?" Bucky asked out of the blue, voice steady and eyes guarded as he stared at Steve. "Cause I know that's why I never took any cute blondes home. Felt too much like I shoulda been holdin' you."

Steve's heart stuttered for the first time since the experiment, and he felt his breath hitch, throat going dry as his mouth fell open and he stared at the brunette. Everything was lost to a rush of white noise and he thought for a moment that his hearing was going again, the shock of that revelation reverting him back to the sickly stick-figure from Brooklynn that no girl had looked twice at.

" _What_?" He managed.

Bucky's jaw jutted to one side, muscles tensing in his arms as his eyes narrowed slightly, and Steve recognized the expression as the one his friend usually wore right before he did something impulsive and probably stupid.

But then his entire field of vision was full of brown hair and tan skin and piercing blue eyes, and his lips were being covered by a pair that were indecently soft and far more talented than his own, hands rough with calluses covering his cheeks and holding him in place as a warm chest collided with his and his whole body ignited as Bucky settled over his lap.

"I'm in love with you, you moron." Bucky breathed, the whisper ghosting over his lips and making him shiver, despite the warmth of Bucky's breath as his next words descended against the shell of his ear. "And from what I can see, you might be in love with me too."

Steve's hands floundered for a moment, not sure what to do or where to land, but then Bucky _moved_ , and his hands grabbed onto the brunette's hips before he could do that again and steal all of Steve's rational thought.

"Bucky…" He stopped as Bucky started to pull away, a panicked look in those beautiful blue eyes as he misinterpreted Steve's hesitance.

"Guess not." Bucky tried to remove himself from Steve's personal space as quickly as possible, panic and shame washing over his face as he turned and stretched to retrieve any of his clothes from the pile and Steve gave into impulse again, placing a feather-light kiss to his sternum.

A strangled sound filled the tent as Bucky whipped around to stare at the blond.

"I love you too, idiot." Steve whispered, pulling the brunette back, thumbs running lightly over the jutting angles of his hips, a shy, eager smile tugging at his lips as Bucky's hands landed on his shoulders and he fought the urge to do anything else rash ( _or potentially_ very _loud_ ).

"Oh, well. Knew you wouldn't be able to resist me for long." And then Bucky's lips were against his neck and he was fighting to breathe for a reason that had nothing to do with the quality of his lungs, and those callused hands were sliding down his back, to his waist, along his thighs, trailing molten-warm and curious along the contours of his new body.

Steve fought to keep his head ( _especially since Bucky was hell-bent on stealing one of them for himself_ ), and tried to focus in on the man in his arms, mirroring the movements that Bucky was using to coax breathy sighs and bitten-off moans from him, desperate to give as good as he got.

"Steve." Bucky chuckled as he pinned Steve's hands above his head, pushing him down onto the rough bedroll. "Just let me, okay?"

"But I don't…" He trailed off as Bucky's tongue darted out and caught a long slice of his throat, his breathing ragged. "…can't use you." He managed.

"You aren't." Bucky smiled, the way he did when Steve ( _beaten, skinny, bony, wheezy, not-good-enough-to-keep-alive Steven Rogers_ ) tried to protect him ( _clever, quick, scrappy, always-read-to-protect-his-friends Bucky Barnes_ ). "But you can't dance if you have two people tryin' to lead." He kissed his way along Steve's chest, nipping at the dip of his sternum and earning a shudder and quick buck of trim hips. "So stop steppin' on my toes, Rogers. I've got you."

The hand holding his wrists slowly trailed down his arm as Bucky continued to kiss his way along Steve's body, and Steve's fingers found their way into brunette locks and got lost, remembering that regardless of how he looked, he'd be safe with Bucky.

"I've got you, Steve."

"I know."

* * *

Captain America and all related characters _belong to:_ Marvel Comics, and their respective creators


End file.
